


the five stages of yearning

by songs



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Die for me,” says Killua, to his heart.</p><p>“I can’t,” his heart says, in Gon’s voice.</p><p>“Then,” says Killua, “Lie for me.”</p><p>“I can’t,” his heart repeats, in Gon’s voice. “I’m not yours, anymore.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the five stages of yearning

i.  _a plea._

“Die for me,” says Killua, to his heart.

“I can’t,” his heart says, in Gon’s voice.

“Then,” says Killua, “ _Lie_ for me.”

“I can’t,” his heart repeats, in Gon’s voice. “I’m not yours, anymore.”

 

ii.  _a want._

“Let’s hold hands,” Gon says, as they walk. He smiles, then, all teeth and sunbeam--so bright that Killua has to look away.

Blushing, he tells him, “No way.”

“ _Eh_?” Gon asks, deflating. “Why not? It’s fun. Me and Mito-san—”

“I said  _no_ ,” he snaps. Gon winces in reply, and Killua instantly feels the guilt settle.  _Why,_ he wants to ask,  _Why do I always ruin good things?_ But there is no one to ask, and no one to answer, so he swallows back his nerves, and amends, “When’s the last time you washed your hands, anyway? I’m not touching ‘em until you use  _soap_.”

Gon coils up, at that. “I cleaned at the river, Killua! You saw me, don’t make up stories!”

He grins wickedly. “I call it as I see it.”

“But you  _saw_ —ne,  _Killua_!” Killua rushes forward, and Gon  _glares_. “You’re so  _mean_! Take it back!”

“Catch me.” Killua laughs, short and breathless, his hands pressed deep in his pockets. “Catch me and I’ll think about it!”

Gon yells, “You’re on!” before darting after him, and in the moment between smiling and turning, Killua lets his face fall, his expression shift. His palms make fists— curls of nail and bone and blood.

 _You don’t want to hold my hands,_ he does not say.  _You don’t know what they’ve done._

iii.  _a wish._

“There’s dirt in your hair,” Gon says, quietly. He trails soft touches along Killua’s temple. “Blood, too.”

“…Training,” Killua grits out, his face warming. He nestles deeper into the sleeping bag that they're sharing. “You know it’s just that.”

“I do,” Gon agrees, yawning, “And I don’t.”

“Geez,” Killua says. “You’re too young to speak in riddles.”

“Well, you’re the same age as me,” Gon retorts. “But sometimes you act really, really old.”

Silence.

“Do I?” Killua asks, at length.

“Mm,” Gon hums, sleepily. “You know a lot of things. I wish I did, too.”

“You—”  _You already do._  Killua bites the inside of his cheek.  _You know how to make me feel right. You know how to make the world gleam._

_You know a lot more than I ever will._

Killua inhales, exhales.  _Stop._ There are some things he can’t tell Gon. Some things he can. But Gon is Gon is Gon  _is Gon;_  he makes Killua’s mind blur, his sight shorten, and he is twelve years old but he is going blind, can’t tell one way from the other. He’s forgotten what to forget, and of his time with Gon, he remembers every smile, every word, every glint and glimmer. Killua’s spine is slanted with rot and death but he does not think of that very often, anymore. It’s like he’s standing for the first time, like he’s seeing for the first time. Which doesn’t make sense, because everything is clouded and strange and confusing but it’s also gentle, it’s also  _Gon_ , and so Killua says, aloud:

“…Don’t worry.”

(Gon leans in closer, and Killua does not push him away.)

“You already do.”

_iv. a promise._

“Let’s go somewhere,” Killua declares, in the morning. “Anywhere.”

“Ne, are you alright?” Gon stretches out his arms, bends the dreams from his bones. “It’s still early…and you usually sleep in.”

“I  _know_  that,” Killua huffs. “But I thought…I’d try something different.”

“Different?” Gon asks, staring closely at him.

“Yeah,” Killua says, his expression softening.  _I’ll let you see this much._ He gets to his feet, feels Gon’s eyes following him. Rather than flush, or stammer, he meets the other boy’s gaze, and holds out his hand.

“Different.”

_v. a confession._

“I love him,” Killua says, to his heart. “I love him a lot.”

His heart laughs; it sounds like a windchime.

“I’ve known that,” his heart says, this time, in his own voice.

He tilts his head in question.

His heart says, again:

“You’ve known that all along.”


End file.
